


This Side of Tomorrow

by LakotaSunDancer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Don't hurt me., Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakotaSunDancer/pseuds/LakotaSunDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detailing Bilbo's final adventure as he sails across the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't kill me, please. Haha.
> 
>  
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> ....
> 
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> 
> This was something I wanted to play with because this scene is so symbolic and spiritual for me. Details of the Undying Lands, specifically the division between the Halls of Mandos and basically everyone else, have been changed because I cannot physically deal with Bilbo not being able to see his old friends.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading!

His bones creaked and crackled as he carefully and cautiously made his way down the stone steps to the harbor. It was quiet here, and so peaceful and lovely, and Bilbo found himself smiling contentedly. The water lapped lazily against the dock, gleaming near-silver in the fading glow of the setting sun. One gnarled hand clenched the hilt of his weathered walking stick, and he heaved a soft sigh.

This was it then, the end of life. The wrinkled face crinkled a little as a wide smile slowly spread over his lips. It was not at all as he had imagined it, much more quiet and peaceful and friendly, but that didn't diminish his excitement. To finally know for himself what lay beyond the farthest reaches of the world, out across the sea and far, far, far away into the West. He'd always wondered. And now, he'd finally see. 

Soft blue eyes trailed over the small group of travelers, dear friends of his from long ago, and his heart swelled against his ribs. How lucky he was, to be making his final journey with the finest of companions, the same friends he might have never known had he never dared to venture out and away from home. 

Bilbo's gaze then slowly drifted to the sea, and how it stretched on and on and on off into the golden sun. Not all of his friends had been so lucky as this, to leave life easily and with such merriment and fellowship. His memory had faded over the many years he'd lived, but he remembered flashes of his youth as clear as day. That fateful summer morning when he had burst forth out his door and chased the band of dwarves wildly down the path, signed contract firmly in hand and trailing behind in the breeze. Goblin Town and it's dank depths and horrors aplenty. That poor, wretched creature called Gollum, and his pitiful tears and wailing at the loss of his beloved gold ring. Yes, those memories were forever emblazoned upon his memory, but stronger still were those of his unlikely friends from so long ago.

Their faces came as welcome ghosts, images of laughter and song and merriment, their grins lit by firelight. Such fine friends they were, that ragtag group of dwarves. Very different in their dress and customs and sometimes rude behavior, but Bilbo could scarcely remember a time when his face had lit up quite as well as it had then, in times spent with the dwarves. 

The fading sun sank a little lower on the horizon, and Bilbo found himself hoping as he'd never hoped before. Might they be there, his old friends? Would he find them laughing and singing and youthful again, as he had always remembered them? Fili and Kili, those dear, brave boys, had earned their place on those shores, he was sure. And if he saw them upon arriving, it would be both of them or neither at all, he knew, for he could not imagine that either would step onto those white shores without the other close at hand. Each of those men had earned their journey to such a peaceful end as far as he was concerned. Gruff and curt, they were, but those ornate beards hid enormous hearts.

He so longed to see each of them again, those wonderful, boisterous lads who had shown him life. Oh, he thought he'd known what living was until they had barged into his home and practically dragged him out of it. And he shuddered to think what a sorry life he may have led if they hadn't. 

Bilbo's eyes twinkled a little and the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a hopeful smile. He very much longed to see Thorin again, to tell him of Frodo's victory and the fall of all things dark in the world. It was something Thorin would have been proud to see, he thought, if he had only lived a while longer. Might he find Thorin on those white shores? With health restored and heart at peace? He wasn't sure. But his heart hoped for it anyhow. For as far as he was concerned, there was no one more worthy of such a proud end than Thorin Oakenshield. 

With fingers crossed at his side and eyes never once leaving that distant horizon, Bilbo hobbled toward the boat with quick steps that spoke of his anticipation. He perched himself at the bow, so he might have a clear view of his friends when they finally arrived at the farther side of life. Oh, the stories he'd have for them. Perhaps they could build a fire and Bofur would still have his flute and they could sing and spin tall tales by firelight, just like old times. A broad smile lifted his wrinkled and weathered cheeks and his old hands curled excitedly around the smooth wood of the bow. Would there be mountains and rivers? Another land to explore in peace for all of time? Horses to ride at full speed across the plains without fear of falling? Oh, he could only hope. 

And slowly, gently, the grey ship set sail, with its smallest and most eager passenger perched excitedly at the front, gnarled fingers drumming in anticipation. Old, dear friends and wonders aplenty lay far ahead beyond the farthest reaches of the sea. And he was quite ready for another adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be feels ahead, folks.

The brilliance of the sun was enough to leave him blind, especially with his position at the bow. Dear old Bilbo closed his eyes with a happy sigh and leaned heavily on the carved wood of the ship's railing. He was thankful, so thankful, to make this journey peacefully and in the company of such precious old friends. There were many across the sea, strangers and friends alike, who had not been so fortunate and had instead left the world choking on crimson blood and trembling for breath. He took comfort in knowing none of his companions had made the final journey alone; he had been there with each of them to the end. 

Fili, brave as he was, had pushed aside the agony of the arrows in his ribs to pet shakily at his little brother's hair until his eyes turned glassy and he knew no more. The young prince had then folded himself over Kili's prone form, whether from grief or exhaustion Bilbo never quite knew. All he had known in those last few moments was the faint glimmer of pride in the prince's eyes as the shout rang loud and clear in the grey evening. Erebor was won. He recalled the way Fili's mouth had trembled into a wide grin before loud, wheezing breaths overpowered him altogether. The lion of a man, strong and fierce, had then quickly become a mere cub beneath the comfort of Bilbo's outstretched hands, boyish and terrified as death pulled him far away over the mountains and out across the sea. 

Bilbo shuddered at the memory, and moreso when he recalled the last moments of his leader and king there in that makeshift tent. Thorin had certainly met a better end than his nephews, but not by much. Blankets kept him warm and the walls of the tent blocked his view of the carnage outside, but the king's end had been frightening indeed. Never had Bilbo known Thorin to beg, and certainly never to him, not after the incident on the heights of the mountain, but the pale, bearded face searched his desperately for forgiveness. His shaking hands had clutched tightly at Bilbo's collar, but this time they grabbed at him in remorse and not rage. He begged almost tearfully for forgiveness, and was only calmed after Bilbo had agreed several times to put the past behind him. Thorin went out in regret, and Bilbo could only hope that he had somehow found peace somewhere on those distant shores. It was all any of them had ever deserved.

Suddenly, the blinding light of the sun was dulled to a soft glow, and Bilbo's eyes snapped open to see what had changed. A grey fog was rolling in over the glassy sea, but he was surprised that he was not frightened. It was thin, lace-like over the water, and from what he could tell, it was a division of sorts. Though the grey haze marred his view of the greater expanse beyond the curtain, he could just barely make out what appeared to be clearer skies and a white glow that seemed to seep in through the spaces the fog failed to cover and out, out into the world. He wondered if perhaps this was merely the barrier between this world and the next, if it was truly only a wall of grey fog that had separated the two all along. The bow of the ship cut through the grey haze, sending the curtain rolling up and away into the sky, and Bilbo relished having the privilege of having the best seat to see it all. The water beneath the ship seemed to harden and shift, but the vessel continued on a smooth path into the beyond. The elderly hobbit risked a curious touch at the waves below, and he pulled away surprised that smooth glass, clear as diamonds, had replaced the wet, salty spray of the sea. It was brighter here, brighter than he'd ever seen, but he found himself unable to look away before the vast expanse of beauty before him. 

The sun filled the sky over the horizon, sunk low in an eternal sunrise over the still glass of the sea. The light now seemed to spill out from everywhere all at once, as if the sun were not alone in giving light to the beautiful emptiness of the beyond. Onward they sailed, into the sun until it plumb near filled the sky and all he knew was warmth and white light. He watched, enthralled, as the sea slowly began to shatter and splinter beneath the hull of the ship, but he was not afraid. Death was not an option here. Not anymore. The glass shattered into millions of little jagged lines, breaking and breaking and breaking until the hard seal of the sea split in two and the little shards of glass floated out and away on the whitecaps of a perfect crystalline ocean. The little hobbit was sure it was the clearest water he'd ever seen, even rivaling that of the Brandywine, and he dipped his hand into the little waves that lapped at the hull. Cool and clear and perfect as he'd ever imagined. 

He moved to submerge his hand again, but the faint glimmer of something on the horizon, something other than the sun, captured his attention. Closer and closer it came, until seemed to stretch from east to west, and his gnarled hands clutched the railing of the ship once he realized what it was he was seeing. Fields as far as he could see glimmered gold and green like precious stones in the sun and steep purple mountains loomed tall and firm behind the rolling hills of this new paradise. Crystal waves lapped gently over white shores, and the faint sound of laughter came dancing out over the sea to welcome their small company Home at last. As they drew ever closer, Bilbo could make out the tiny figures dancing and sprinting and giggling in the grass. Short and tall, young and old, they splashed in the water and ran away shrieking with laughter when the cool spray kissed their faces. Some, he noted with no small measure of excitement, were racing headlong over those unending hills nestled safely on the backs of fair, long-maned horses. He could hear the thunderous clatter of their hooves as they passed over the nearer hills and out and away toward the mountains. 

Smiling from ear to ear, Bilbo turned to clasp the shoulder of his beloved Frodo, who stood behind him with a wide grin of his own, the likes of which Bilbo had not seen in years. They stood together at the bow, quivering with anticipation as the boat came to a sudden stop in the white sand of the beach. Bilbo practically sprinted off the side of the ship, too impatient to wait for the ramp to lower safely onto the shore, and dropped over the side and into the waves with a splash. He surfaced with a strength he hadn't known since his youth, heart bursting full with joy as he paddled eagerly to the beach. The old familiar aches and creaks in his bones seemed to fade with every stroke until he at last felt sand beneath his toes and his body hummed with peace. A curious glance at his own reflection in the clear water told him the mop of curls on his head was once again red-gold in the sun, and the once craggy nooks and crannies of his face had tightened back into pale, young skin. 

Overjoyed, Bilbo turned back to his companions, dripping wet from his hair to his robes, but he cared not. He barked a joyous laugh, just once, and fell back into the white sand with a contented sigh. He could hear Lord Elrond and Gandalf chuckling as they passed by, as well as the sound of footsteps approaching from his left. Suddenly, something was blocking the brilliant light of the sun, and Bilbo shielded his eyes to discover the source of the intrusion. The hobbit fell back into the sand with a hoarse gasp before launching to his feet and heaving himself at young Kili, who stood giggling with that impish grin he'd always carried.

The lad ruffled Bilbo's auburn hair with a chuckle and swept him into a firm embrace. Bilbo gazed up into his face, though the tears that pricked at his eyes made it hard to really see him, but that mischievous light back in the boy's eyes was clear as day. His arms were tight around Bilbo's smaller frame, strong as the day he fell on the battlefield, and his skin, having been ashen and ice cold on that bitter evening, was warm and tinted bronze in the sunlight. The little hobbit felt as though he might burst with joy, and he pulled away to exclaim to Kili how delighted he was to see him again at long last, but another set of arms yanked him from the boy's hold and pulled him up into another set of arms. 

The familiar scent of pine and smoke was all Bilbo knew until he managed to pull his face away from the stranger's broad chest just enough to catch glimpse of a mane of golden hair. He shrieked with happiness, throwing his small arms around the neck of the eldest prince, and felt the welcome rumble of Fili's laughter against his cheek. The tears pricked again at his eyes, for the last memory he had of the prince was the tremors that wracked his failing body and the keening sound that chattered through his teeth. And yet, here he was, healed, well, and laughing merrily into his ear. How long had Bilbo longed for these two boys over the years? How many days did he spend sitting at his dining room table, head in his hands and wishing for all the world that some unexpected company might arrive again and fill the empty chairs? Arriving home after the battle had been terribly lonely without the loud chuckling and the heavy stomping of boots rattling off the walls. 

Fili settled him back on his feet and he beamed up in elation at the little lion-man, who smiled gently back in return and then urged Bilbo to turn around and face the western shore. Far off down the beach, a lone figure stood gazing out over the sea, as if waiting for someone to arrive. Bilbo felt his mouth fall open and to his embarrassment, the tears no longer pricked, but tumbled down his cheeks instead. The dwarf king was there down the beach, strong and well and whole again, just as he should have been if it hadn't been for that final rogue arrow. His old friend, who had faced down the chiefest and greatest calamity of the age with chin held high and sword grasped firmly in hand, who had been cut down made to die in the shadow of his lifelong home, was all right. And he was there, waiting. 

Bilbo took off in a dead run down the beach, tears blurring his vision as he raced for his dear friend, leader and king. The salty haze in his eyes meant he didn't see the dwarf king turn to him in surprise, eyes wide and filling with tears of his own that he would try his damnedest to hide. He heard the hoarse bark of laughter that filled the air as Thorin caught his old companion in a firm embrace. Over and over, Thorin apologized to his friend, voice trembling as he expressed his sorrow again after all these years over the incident on the battlements. He was sorry, so incredibly sorry for the violence and the anger, but most of all, for the banishment. Bilbo would have been welcome in those great halls, he said, if he had recovered enough to take the crown. But alas, here they were, having made the journey into the far beyond, and as Bilbo kindly reminded him, the sins of their old life held little importance here. He expressed his forgiveness to the king for the umpteenth time, smiling when Thorin heaved a shuddering sigh of acceptance and bowed his head. The wind sent the king's hair sprawling over the hobbit's shoulders, but he cared not. His friends were here, safe and sound and well as ever, and Bilbo Baggins knew he would never be broken again.


End file.
